The Dog of the North by Elizabeth McKenzie

Author:Elizabeth McKenzie [McKenzie, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

Part 2

14

The long cold metal tube in which I sat, in the second-to-last row in a universally despised middle seat, aroused memories of trips I’d taken to the southern hemisphere in the past. In those days the captain would wake us when the plane crossed the international date line, and upon landing in Sydney, we’d be sprayed with some kind of insecticide.

Back then, the reasons to leave the country had been adding up. Some years before, my mother had been very unhappy about the things Pincer had falsely accused Arlo of in the divorce, and she and her mother had not spoken since. Meanwhile, her hopes for a more stable relationship with Arlo had been dashed when he married Doris Roofla. And though it had been a slam-dunk case to revoke Gaspard’s visiting rights with me following my mishap at sea, Gaspard continued to challenge the case and send her vicious letters. Finally, since she and Hugh had felt that America was going down the tubes for some time, Hugh set out to find a new job on the southern frontier. In 1996, when he obtained a Fulbright and a year-long appointment, off we went.

I was in ninth grade, Margaret in seventh. We spent a year in Canberra and went to school. Hugh made contacts in the library world and two years after our return he was awarded a full-time position in Brisbane. They would leave the United States for good. Before long they would become dual citizens. They would alienate what relatives they still had in the States, who would ask, What’s wrong, isn’t America good enough for you?

I remained in Los Angeles to finish high school, staying with my friend Claire and her family, but Margaret went with our parents. And she too never came back.

In those days, I’d visit as often as they’d buy me a ticket. And they’d come visit from time to time too. Eventually, after Sherman and I married, they’d bring us both. As soon as we’d arrive, he’d want to take off exploring, but I wanted to hang out with my family. I was surprised that he didn’t understand that. On both sides, resentments built.

I’d returned to Queensland only once since the disappearance—shortly after it happened. Margaret and Wilhelmus had infant twins then (our parents had planned to be back for the birth), and I stayed almost two months, in a fugue state of which I have almost no memory, adding to their burdens rather than helping them, I’m sure.

Now Arlo was up in first class, as befits a retired pilot with full seniority on an international flight. I was in the seat already described, between a woman with a baby and another young woman with loud, leaking earbuds, as befits someone who has purchased a ticket last-minute at the airport.

We’d spent the morning making sure we had all of Arlo’s prescriptions and deciding what he needed to pack. For the great-grandchildren, Margaret’s boys, he asked me to go shopping for some swag.

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